


Of Spies and White Whales

by plinys



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So what’s the plan, you sneak in there like a student all Jump Street style and look after the little professor?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Spies and White Whales

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparkysparky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkysparky/gifts).



> All of your prompts were so good, but I just felt that the world needed some FitzTrip happiness right about now!

“Leopold Fitz, twenty-six year old university professor, who is apparently in danger of being recruited by Hydra,” Trip says, reading over the folder that Skye had smacked down in front of him far too easily.

The operation looks easy enough, and there’s even a picture of the poor guy, probably taken from his university identification card. He’s cute, in a tiny grandfather type of way, which isn’t Trip’s usual type at all, but he is certainly considering it.

He looks up at her after a moment and says, “this what Fury called you in for?”

She shrugs her shoulders and he goes back to reading the file.

“So what’s the plan, you sneak in there like a student all _Jump Street_ style and look after the little professor?”

Her silence isn’t a good enough answer, so he looks up at her once more.

 Skye’s still grinning at him in a slightly unnerving way, and he’s pretty sure it’s just because they’re partners that he figures out her unspoken words a second later.

“Girl, no.”

“The correct response is ‘thank you Skye for giving me this mission full of eye candy and taking my week of inventory off my hands’,” she says quirking an eyebrow at him.

“I happen to like inventory.”

“ _Nobody_ likes inventory.”

Okay, that was true, but it was also true that Trip didn’t need one of his coworkers setting him up with people, especially with people that they were supposed to be protecting.

“Professor Fitz here already knows we’re coming, you’re just going to have to spend a week or so being a glorified body guard until some Hydra goon reveals himself,” Skye explains, “then you step in, save the day, and sweep him off his feet before riding into the sunset for your dramatic kiss of victory.”

“What exactly am I riding on?”

“A white horse? A motorcycle? Him-“

“Skye!”

“Whatever you want,” she says, her fingers drumming against the file once more, “either way, you’re stuck with this one, so try to enjoy him- I mean, it.”

\---

The picture doesn’t nearly do him justice.

If Trip had thought he was cute from his headshot, having the other guy standing in front of him was a whole different story.

“So is it Doctor or Professor,” Trip asks, as he gets settled into the one other chair in the little office.

“It’s Professor, technically, but just Fitz is fine,” he says, setting a steaming mug of tea in front of Trip.

“ _Just Fitz_ it is then.”

He expects a certain type of reaction, the little laugh his friends usually give him for those kinds of teasing comments, but this Fitz doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary about Trip’s inflection, and just continues sipping at his tea the picture of poker face.

It’s silly how quickly it becomes his goal to crack that poker face.

“Agent Triplett, how exactly is all of this going to work,” Fitz asks, his fingers drumming against his own mug of tea, “I have very delicate research I’m working on.”

Trip bites back his comment of _obviously_ since that very research is why he’s here, but instead says, “it won’t be like those crazy action movies.”

He’s not sure, but he thinks for a second there the other man’s expression deflates a bit and there is just the slightest hint of something like disappointment.

“I’ll set a few wire taps and hidden cameras, easy stuff,” Trip explains, “then it’s just a bunch of waiting around until we find out white whale.”

Fitz rolls his eyes before he says, “have you even read _Moby Dick?_ ”

“Uh, yeah,” Trip replies, “have you?”

And there it is, the moment he had been waiting for, the color rising up Fitz’s cheeks as he slams his mug onto the table with a bit more force than entirely necessary, “I have two PhDs!”

\---

It’s been two days with nothing.

Well, not entirely _nothing_.

It’s been two days of Trip trying to work references to _Moby Dick_ into the conversation as much as possible, two days of cheap takeout and hot tea in a cramped office, and two days of watching security footage for a hint of somebody suspicious.

As far as SHIELD was concerned it was two days of nothing, but Trip was certain that it was something so much more than that.

“You sure you don’t have any even _vaguely_ suspicious coworkers,” Trip says, “students too eager for your attention? Fellow professors insisting that they have a wonderful investment they’d love you to get in on?”

He knows the answer before Fitz says anything, because in between all the other stuff Trip had spent the past two days going through the files on anybody and everybody that Fitz has come in contact with. Really at this point he was half tempted to call Skye and demand that she bug somebody hire up until they tell who tipped them off about this, if only that way he might have _some_ sort of lead.

Fitz just shakes his head, “not that I can think of.”

“Has anybody been acting out of the ordinary since I showed up?

Fitz’s answer is less readily available this time, and he seems to be honestly thinking about it, worrying his lower lips between his teeth as he does so in a way that shouldn’t be as charming as it is.

“There is one thing, but oh – it can’t mean anything.”

“At this point, I’ll take any lead I can get?”

“You that ready to get me out of your hair,” Fitz asks.

_More like the exact opposite_ he wants to say, but he doesn’t instead he just gives a little shrug.

“Well, okay, there’s this coworker of mine, but she’s not anything bad, but she’s been acting a bit more distant,” Fitz explains, “really you can trust me on this one, Jemma isn’t anything bad.”

There’s something distantly in the back of Trip’s mind, an alarm that goes off all at once, and he has to ask, “Jemma who?”

“Simmons? She’s a professor too, but at one of the other universities in town our rival actually and she usually she’s bugging me to go out on the town with her and trying to be my wing woman, but-“

“I’m going to kill her.”

“ _Excuse me!_ ”

“Not, you’re friend, her girlfriend,” Trip clarifies, “and I’m not going to _actually_ kill her, though it will be a near thing when I get back to base.”

“I’m not following you,” Fitz says.

“My partner, Skye, she’s-“

“Jemma’s girlfriend,” Fitz finishes, suddenly putting the pieces together, “which means our white whale wasn’t a whale after all, but rather an elaborate game of wing womaning?”  

He doesn’t answer Fitz instead, he pulls his phone of out his pocket, dialing the familiar number, and when Skye picks up two rings earlier than usual he knows that she _knows._

Though even if he hadn’t her answer of, “your welcome,” was clue enough.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

He might have, a little bit, but he snaps the phone shut before she can say anything else, because even if this all was one terrible con, there was at least one good thing that came out of it.

“So, Agent Triplett, now that you’re not ‘protecting’ me, could I ask you out for a drink?”

“Sure, and it’s just Trip.”

He knows he’s smitten a second later when Fitz smiles and replies, “ _Just Trip.”_

 


End file.
